


The Bedroom Window

by Saphira Navi (ForeverNerdyZeldaFan)



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverNerdyZeldaFan/pseuds/Saphira%20Navi
Comments: 2





	The Bedroom Window

The third floor of the Unicorn Inn was a magical place. The perfect view of the Dark Wood Forest was breathtaking. The sound of the fresh waterfall in the distance was serene. Birds chirped, deer roamed, and wolves hunted. Pine wafted into the air. The inn was a warm, peaceful place. But it was not always that way. It all began when someone left the window open.

It was a cold winter day. The inn was not an inn yet, merely a house of an old widower. His kind eyes reflected a deep ocean blue, revealing the layers of wisdom and time he held, but his eyes also glinted with a strange glow. A glow that seemed unworldly and magical. His brown hair was speckled grey with age, but his heart remained young and full of life.

Now, this widower, being alone in the country, lent his house to weary travelers. Of course, it was not free, but it was cheap for such a grand palace. You see, the house consisted of five large floors, but the first two were the most commonly used. Those who could not pay, would help the old man with housekeeping. Not much was asked for though, and most were glad to help the widower with his home.

The widower had three simple rules: 1) Help and clean when needed, 2) Remain cheerful, and 3) Never open the windows. Those who obliged would be given an open room of their choosing, three square meals, and the comfort of a home to return to. Families came and left; lumberjacks slept and ate; travelers laughed and helped. It was a happy place of family, and the widower accepted all, he made friends and found comfort in those around him.

One day, a girl came in, shivering from the cold winter months. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen. The man was startled. He ran to her with a quilt, his late wife’s handmade quilt. He saw her numb, raw hands and tried to cover them as best he could. Her face was white as the snow itself, except the brown freckles running from her small nose to each cheek. The girl’s dark chocolate hair fell against her shoulders in curls, framing her face. White snowflakes melted against her light coat and hair. Her hazel eyes were speckled with red, gold, green, blue, and brown, contrasting and melting together to form a picture in her iris.

She smiled at the man that wrapped the quilt around as he led her to an ebony chair by the glowing fire. The burning pine wood filled the room with its scent. The flickering orange flames were the only light in the room; they sent eerie shadows into the corners, making the walls dance with light. Grateful for the help already given, she sat herself in the chair. The widower looked at the young girl in the small armchair. He smiled back, but it was a curious smile and a little more like a concerned gesture than a greeting. He spoke in his gruff way, soft, welcoming, but powerful. “Now, what would a young girl be doing here in the middle of the winter?” Looking into his magical blue eyes, she responded.

“I am a reporter doing a story in the town twenty miles to the west. My car crashed in the storm, and I saw your house. I was wondering if I could stay here until the storm lets up. It would be wonderful to have a place to stay.” The man sat down in the dark couch to her left.

“Surely that’s not all. I can see you also have a hidden motive.” his tone was quiet, maybe judging, like he was criticizing her for lying to him. She tried to respond, but the words were caught in the throat, like a marble just above her voice box. Panic webbed from her chest to her hands and feet, making her fidgety and on edge.

_He couldn’t know, could he?_ She thought. _There could be no possible way, she had only just met him, but some he_ knew! Then the unexpected happened. The man laughed! He laughed and laughed and laughed. She tilted her head, confused at the man. His laugh was like large bells. Loud, and joyous. What was funny? “Oh, forgive me Little Bird,” he said with mirth. “I did not mean to catch you off guard. I was just curious. You do not need to tell me, and I will not pry. Yes, you may sleep and eat here all you wish. Just help me out around the house. You may pick any room in the house that is not already occupied. Do you have any other possessions?” She shook her head and pulled the blanket closer. The warmth of the blanket was so comforting to her. Understanding what she meant, the widower walked over to the desk and grabbed something. He came back and handed her a little door hanger. “That’s ok, here, just put this on your door. The hanger is a unique color and I don’t get many visitors this time of year. I’ll make a gift basket filled with what you need and send it to your room.”

She nodded and took off her blanket. Chilly air hit her like a wave, sending goosebumps up her arms. Rising from the comforting chair, she gave one last smile to the man. She turned to leave, but the widower stopped her. “Oh, and one more thing, don’t open the windows.” His eyes revealed worry or concern, but, as it was there for only a split second, the girl didn’t notice. She nodded, and with the door hanger in hand, she climbed the stairs, enjoying the prospect of choosing her own room. She didn’t give the first floor a second’s thought. It was too close to the main door, and she liked her privacy. The second floor was ok, but she knew if she got higher, the view of the forest would be breathtaking. So, she climbed to the third floor. Down the hallway, a room shined with a mysterious blue light.

Interested, she walked toward the room, her curiosity growing stronger as she got closer, closer, and closer. She was in a trance, unable to draw away, unable to move in the opposite direction. Memories flooded her, reminding her of every mishap, every embarrassment. As she entered the room, a cool wind enveloped her. She looked around her. The room was large and seemed to have been vacant for some time. The bed had white sheets and pillows that were covered in dust. Two ebony nightstands stood on either side of the rustic bed. Across from the bed, a dresser was placed. She checked the drawers. Of course, they were empty. A small bookshelf was placed on top of this grand dresser. Old books filled it, however, she was not interested in these. Dove wallpaper surrounded her covering all four walls that were trapping her. Then, the window, the window was calling to her! Telling her to open it. Why? She had always been taught to follow rules, and the man had told her not to open the window.

Nevertheless, it beckoned, called, taunted her to come closer. Open the latch, it would be so easy to do. Simply open the window, and the itch, the urge would leave. No, she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. Exhausted, she draped the door hanger on the handle and climbed into the bed, sleep taking her before she could hit the pillow. The next day, she found the gift basket by her door. The meager contents consisted of a toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush and hair ties, soaps, and a towel. Smiling to herself, she thought about last night. How strange. She left for breakfast.

Her day did not seem long. She ate breakfast, helped the man, picked out some clothes the man had in the back, found her car, and tried digging it out of the snow. That had failed, and the towing company she called would not be there for another day. Going back to the house, she ate lunch and went exploring in the forest. Dinner was nice and she got to help cook. After, she cleaned dishes, washed the table, and met the other two guests there. Thanking the man for dinner and excusing herself, she returned to the third floor of the house, hoping to get some early shuteye. However, the light was back, pulling her closer, as she entered the room, the first thing she noticed was the open window.

She ran to close the window, but, as soon as she touched the frame, everything turned black. It was warm, smothering, suffocating. She was on the wall, straining to move, she felt so confined, so stuck, like a bird with its wings clipped. Little Bird, that is what the man had called her. She looked around. The wallpaper doves were surrounding her. The girl had become one with them, trapped like them. She could feel their determination to leave the wall and fly out the window. The determination to be free was infectious, making the girl want to scream and strain with all her might to fly. So, she pushed, she pushed against the wall with all her might. She pushed and pushed, trembling with strain. Finally, she peeled herself off the wall.

Turning towards the window, she spread her gentle wings, and flew. Behind her, she could hear the wing beats of dozens of other birds behind her. They were free, free to roam, free to live, free from the world, able to fly where they wished. Even though the snow was cold, her spirit was warm and happy. The air under her wings lifted her higher and higher, into the air. Her lungs filled with air, exhilarating her. She was free, free from fear, work, and free from worry.

The other doves helped carry her skyward, into the clouds and above the trees and mountains. On the surface, the widower walked to grab the mail. A flurry of birds enveloped him before flying off. He smiled a sad, knowing smile. Nothing would ever be the same again. Little Bird flew out the window, ensuring the home would forever be haunted by magic.


End file.
